Of Rose Petals and Silver Sharpies
by AzikaRue394
Summary: You'd never guess how much of an impression can be made on someone with rose petals and silver Sharpies. "Now that's a first kiss done right, Maxie. None of this upside-down foolishness." MaxMariam.


Okay, here's the deal. To thank you all for entering my MaxMariam contest, I thought I'd write my own oneshot about Max and Mariam's first kiss, for your amusement. No, I'm not entering my own contest. I just couldn't resist writing something of my own.

Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade, Poirot, or Sharpies.

Enjoy!

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_**Of Rose Petals and Silver Sharpies**_

What Max and Mariam had could be called a relationship, but only for a lack of a more suitable word. Sure they were on civil – you could even say friendly, terms with one another, but they weren't particularly close. A few pleasantly exchanged words were as far as they ever got before cracking open a big can of awkward silence where Max would shift uneasily and Mariam would pretend not to care. Still, over time, they'd grown to appreciate each other's company, each in their own weird way.

They had a chance encounter one bright summer day and it wouldn't be until all was said and done that Mariam would realize that chance had little to do with it. She hoped it would be the last time he'd be able to pull the wool over her eyes. As a matter of fact, she'd make sure of it. There couldn't be talk of her going soft.

She'd run into Max in the park that day. Both out to get some air she'd agreed, albeit begrudgingly, to sit under a big oak tree overlooking a secluded patch of roses with him. He'd take what he could get, Mariam noticed as she settled herself under the sprawling canopy of foliage, even if all he got was his crush sitting next to him. Resting her back against the tree, she opened her book to the tenth chapter and read from where she'd left off. Not a minute later she heard Max scrambling up the tree to seat himself on a branch right above her. She looked up, hoping to meet his eyes and give him her classic "What the heck?" look, but he never looked down. She settled instead for an eye roll and some vibes that clearly said he was bizarre, then went back to reading her book.

It was unclear how long they'd been sitting their, but Poirot was just about to unveil the key piece of evidence when a petal floated down and landed on the page. Quizzically, she picked the rose petal and gave each side a careful examination before tossing it off to the side. His games meant nothing to her and they definitely weren't going to keep her from finding out who the murderer was.

Max frowned down on her as she stuck her nose back into her book. He'd wanted this chance for ages, but he never thought he'd get it, therefore, he didn't have a plan. All he had was a rose he'd picked and a silver Sharpie he'd left in his jacket pocket last autumn. How could he make an impression that would melt Mariam's heart when he'd come so unprepared? True, he'd planned on meeting her today to talk, but words escaped him every time he looked in her eyes. They held an almost accusatory gleam, like she knew he was still in love with her from all those years ago.

They'd ended on such awkward terms. He said he needed her to stay and that he loved her more than he'd ever loved anything before. She said he was deluded and too young to know anything for sure – silly him to have thought they could actually go somewhere. He'd been positive that the late night meetings and pushing of boundaries had meant the same to her, but then she left. He'd been stupidly ignorant to the ways of women.

But now that she was back, he had a chance. It may have been nothing but a glimmer of a glimpse of hope, but it was all he had. He needed to do something, and fast, before someone else stole her heart.

"Mariam, what does it mean to you when a guy tells you he loves you?" Max didn't look down at her, choosing instead to not make his blush so apparent by fingering the dainty petals of his rose.

The Saint Shield sighed. "I don't have time for this, Max."

"You wouldn't be here if you had something else to do." He sounded a little dejected, like her disinterest was founded entirely in him, when in reality any talk of her feelings would cause immediate disinterest in any conversation with any hopeful suitor. "Please just answer the question." He finished with a pout so pathetic that Mariam actually felt a tad bit sympathetic.

Why did he insist on doing this to her? She'd been turned around so many times on the subject of Max that she no longer knew if she loved him or hated him. He was a sweetheart; so different from all the others. She felt she could believe him when he said he was in love, but was he too young to understand what he was feeling? Did he even know what love was? It's a commitment. Everyone knows young people aren't committed, especially to each other.

She groaned inwardly, feeling a migraine coming on. Fabulous.

"I guess," she started reluctantly, fiddling with the pages of her book, "that would depend who that guy was and what the circumstances were. I'm not as easy to win over as I used to be; I can tell when someone's not sincere." Mariam was counting on the fact that he wouldn't notice how she danced around the question in a flighty ballet of sorts.

When he pried no more into the subject, her misgivings were assuaged, putting her back in control. She grasped new confidence firmly so as not to lose it. Smirks, empty words, and elusive answers were her only defense and he'd never crumble them.

"What would make you believe someone was sincere?" Max ran his fingers over the rose's stem, thorns and all. It was amazing to him how something so piercing could be one with something as soft and gentle as the petals. They were opposites, but they were connected, each completing the other.

Mariam stiffened. Oh great. This question was even worse than the last. There couldn't be much dancing around this one. Of course she could always refuse to answer – plead the fifth as Americans said, but he'd only bother her until a legitimate answer slipped out anyway. She might as well give him a half legitimate answer voluntarily. "There's probably hundreds of answers to that question."

"Like what?"

She sighed. Apparently she needed to work on her witty remarks. Any other time she's spit one out no problem, but there was something about this kid that caused her to seek comebacks as blindly as Dunga with half of his brain tied over his eyes, and you can't get much blinder than that.

"That would depend on the guy and circumstances, too." If she couldn't have a quip for a comeback, she might as well go back to dancing.

Max flopped back down on his branch. For a second he'd thought that he'd get a viable answer out of her. Who had he been kidding? This was Mariam. Getting answers out of her was like pulling teeth and asking for an arm or leg as pay. She was so annoying, yet so brilliantly mesmerizing and the whole puzzle of their relationship drove him nuts. No matter – after a few minutes of wracking his brain, he'd finally begun to formulate a plan.

With a small grin, Max asked, "What would you think if I said I loved you?"

"I'm sure you'll find out; you have a habit of saying insane things like that." Mariam could sense the dangerous way this conversation was heading and decided not to let anything Max might say get to her. Unfortunately she failed to account for what he might _do_.

Max smirked to himself and uncapped his Sharpie. Time to initiate his plan.

Knowing her...um...friend who was a boy had been quiet for too long, Mariam did her best to push any anxiety from her brain and get back to reading. What damage could he do, really? She was just completely carefree and immersed when something landed suddenly on her knee. She jumped. In the mindset of murder she'd made a drop of blood out of a harmless rose petal. She rolled her eyes at his antics and her own stupidity.

She picked up the petal, gave both sides a quick once over, and did a double-take. On one side of the petal Max had scrawled and unmistakeable capital 'I'. Mariam inhaled sharply and hoped he hadn't noticed. Was what was coming what she thought was coming? And why was her heart beating so quickly? With shaky hands she deposited the petal as her side and went back to her book. The thousands of thoughts running through her head kept her reading the same sentence over and over. She could have quoted it and told you how the 't' in 'the' was slightly worn away at the top by the time another gift from above fluttered down.

Her heart skipped a beat. This petal was torn into a crude 'V' shape. It wasn't a heart, it was a 'V', Mariam tried to convince herself. She suddenly felt really uncomfortable – she didn't like where this conversation was going, not one bit. Before she could think of a good excuse for leaving, another petal fell a foot or so away. Praying that she wouldn't regret this later, the green eyed teenager reached for the petal.

'U'. Her eyes widened.

"_What would you think if I said I loved you?" _

More like what could she think. Her mind was practically empty at the moment.

Then she found her fight or flight instinct kicking in and she had no fight left in her when it came to Max. She stood up and turned back around. "Max I have to-" She was cut off as Max finally benefited from years of beyblading and aced math tests. He had good enough aim and his calculations were precise enough to allow him to swing down, hanging by his legs on the branch to lock lips with Mariam. It took every ounce of courage he had.

Shocked, Mariam pulled away from him and forcefully yanked him out of the tree by his arms. He landed with a thud at her feet.

"Ow! What was that for?" He rubbed a goose egg already forming on his head. "You could have broken my neck!"

"I think I should be asking you the same question!" Mariam yelled, red-faced and fiery-eyed. "What in the world were you thinking swooping down and kissing me like that?!"

"I thought it would help prove to you that I was sincere..." he mumbled, unable to meet her eyes. "What's so wrong about that?"

"Nothing! Everything! I don't know!" Mariam was shaking now, looking furious and confused. "All I know is that...well..." She struggled to find the right words, her brain having trouble functioning with her heart pounding in her ears. "That wasn't how I expected out first kiss to be! I was supposed to initiate it and leave you surprised and gaping open-mouthed like a goldfish! You weren't supposed to send me into an incoherent babbling rant!" She let out a string of curses in her native tongue and somehow Max was glad he had no idea what she was saying.

"You've thought about us kissing?" He tried not to get his hopes up, but somehow he couldn't stop his heart from soaring slightly at the thought of her considering kissing him.

"Don't get excited; I just knew you would try something eventually and didn't want to be left looking like an idiot." _Too late,_ she thought ruefully, working on rebounding so she could dish out some revenge.

"I think you're in denial," Max stated simply.

"I think you need to shut up before I shove my fist up your nose."

"I don't think that's a very sincere threat."

She glared at him. He just blinked those humongous, blue eyes. He was going to pay.

Mariam sighed and knelt down in front of where Max sat nursing his injury. She pulled his head forward to examine the bump she'd caused to form. Meanwhile, Max did his best to look anywhere but her chest since she happened to have angled his eyes right towards it. He couldn't help thinking that this was even more awkward than the silence between them as a blush overtook his cheeks.

"You might want to take something to reduce the swelling," Mariam advised. "It's nothing major, but do me a favor and don't tell your mother because something tells me she'd have me arrested. She sends me disapproving looks every now and again."

"Eddy and Michael like you. She thinks you distract them," Max mumbled, glad to take his mind off of their current position. "She also thinks you need a lesson in modesty and that your shorts just beg for guys' attention."

Mariam shrugged. "I've heard worse." Then, after a pause, she spoke again. "You know Max, you really have grown up." She lifted his chin and studied his face. "You've come a long way from your starry T-shirt days."

Max gulped. She was awfully close.

"I still remember you running around with your high, squeaky, little voice, proclaiming that teamwork and a relationship with your bitbeast conquered all. I thought you were crazy. Then you said you loved me and I _knew_ you were crazy. But you seemed to really believe what you were saying. You were pretty sincere for your age, back then." She stopped and read his nervous and anxious expression with satisfaction welling up inside her. She had regained the upper hand. "Do you think you're still sincere, after all this time?"

The question was rather unexpected. He shrugged as she leaned in closer to him.

"I do," she whispered as butterflies erupted in Max's stomach.

And then she kissed him. It was a happiness the boy, as he was just a boy, had never known as fireworks shattered the night sky inside his eyelids. The first kiss was merely a sampling of this euphoria. Mariam's hands were tangled in his hair and their lips were fused together and every second lasted a lifetime. They finished only when they ran out of air.

"Now that's a first kiss done right, Maxie. None of this upside-down foolishness."

With that she ran a hand over his cheek and went to gather up her book and rose petals. As she passed by him on her way home she dropped a petal and his silver Sharpie into his lap. Written on the petal was her phone number and one word: sincerity. Max smiled a huge smile – best day of his life.

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A/N: Originally I hadn't planned to mention the AllStarz or Judy, but they slipped in. I really don't think I can help it.

I think most of you made Max say the "Well, that wasn't how I expected our first kiss to be." line. He does seem like more of the type to say it, but it fit better with Mariam in my story.

Oh, and Poirot is Agatha Christie's character. He's a detective who solves murder cases and all that jazz. I thought Mariam seemed like the type who wouldn't mind picking up a book every now and then, but I couldn't figure out what kind she'd read. I settled on mysteries. Unfortunately they're also a favorite of mine so it seems like I'm advertising them. Oh well.

I don't know if anyone will know what pleading the fifth is... It's kind of an American thing. It goes along with the Fifth Amendment in our Bill of Rights. It's the right to refuse to answer a question when under oath or something like that.

I think that's all I have to say so, yeah...

Review?


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